Kind of Cursed and Kind of Blessed
by PervyMonk
Summary: The Female Courier wakes Vulpes up in an interesting way. Written for the Fallout Kink meme, rated M.


The Courier sets up her tent to her satisfaction, and not a moment too soon. A light rain had started to sprinkle, covering Zion with glittering moisture. She turns to glance at her unwanted companion, and he lifts an eyebrow in response. She huffs, and enters the tent.

"Are you going to let me in, profligate?" Vulpes calls.

"No," she calls back, holding back a pout. "You followed me. There's no room for you. " He chuckles, but doesn't move to enter. The rain begins pouring harder, and she can see it slide down the outside of the tattered, pre-War tent she had scavenged. She feels a little bad for leaving him out there, but it is his own fault. He should have stayed back in the Mojave, where he would have been warm and dry. She lies down to go to sleep, determined to push Vulpes out of her thoughts.

Thunder booms long and loud, causing her to jump and fling blankets everywhere.

Well, maybe a little company wouldn't hurt after all.

She pokes her head out to see Vulpes huddled up underneath a tree, doing his best to shield himself from the cold torrent of water. He straightens a little when he catches her gaze, trying to look more dignified. She motions him over.

"Come in here, idiot," she calls over the echoing thunder. He obliges, scrambling through the mud to reach her. Once he's safely inside the tent, he shakes the water out of his hair. She pulls her bedroll to the opposite side of the tent, away from him.

"You get that side," she points, and his gaze lingers on hers for a little too long. "No funny business or I'll cut you. Got it?"

"Of course, m'lady," he says sarcastically. "Would the madam like tea and crumpets as well?"

"I mean it. You stay on your side of the tent. I didn't _have _to let you in, you know," she growls. He rolls his eyes and she huffs, plopping down on her bed roll. She makes a face at him and rolls over. She's convinced she won't fall asleep with him in the tent, but her eyes drift close to the rhythmic sound of the rain pattering against the tent.

When she wakes up again, she feels entirely too warm.

She shifts to feel strong arms holding her in place.

"I _told you no funny business," _she says, reaching for her combat knife. She freezes when she feels a soft groan against her neck. She feels his nose rub against her skin, and his lips brush along the back of her neck. "Are you _nuzzling me?" _ She doesn't get an answer, only soft sighs against her skin. "Hey, answer me when I'm-" she shifts to get out of his grasp, and gasps when she feels a surprising hardness press against her backside. She looks over her shoulder at him. His eyes are closed, and his breathing is steady and slow. He nuzzles her neck again, and she experimentally pushes back into him. He groans again, but doesn't stir.

"You're asleep," she says in awe. _Well well._ After careful difficulty, she rolls over to face him. He looks almost serene in his slumber except for the occasional soft moan that falls from his lips. She tilts her head. She should probably just push away from him, move to the other side of the tent, and hope he doesn't follow her. After all, she told him no funny business. She should probably abstain from the same thing.

She traces the curve of his cheek with her hand, feeling how warm it is underneath her fingers. Her hand feathers down his neck to feel his bare chest. She blushes at the thought of him removing his clothes without her knowledge. Despite herself, it becomes difficult for her to breathe as she feels his skin beneath her fingertips, and feels his face nuzzle into her hair. She presses a soft kiss to his chin and, when he doesn't stir, presses another kiss to his lips.

She thoughtfully sucks on his bottom lip, being careful to be gentle. Her hands ghost down his sides to feel strong, taut, _naked _thighs beneath her grasp. She pulls her lips away from his, and an almost whine rumbles in the back of his throat, his face unconsciously leaning towards hers in his sleep. She slides her hands back up to his shoulders, and gently pushes him onto his back. The blanket falls from him, exposing his nude form. Her breath catches in her throat as she eyes his stiff member. She grins wickedly, and slowly leans down to take him gently in her mouth. He gasps and bucks, his eyes flying open. Her hands move to his hips to hold them down.

"What are you doing?" he asks hoarsely. She swirls her tongue around the head of his penis in response. He bites back a yelp, his hands fisting in the discarded blanket. She slowly begins to move her head up and down his length, gently sucking and licking. He groans, his hands moving to tangle in her hair. She hums quietly, and is rewarded with a choked gasp. She pulls him out of her mouth with a popping noise, and presses a kiss to the head.

"Mornin' sleepy head," she teases.

"Thought you said no funny business," he says in-between shallow breaths. She shrugs, pressing soft kisses down the length of his member that leave him squirming. Vulpes lets out a curse when she takes one of his balls in her mouth. She giggles, and the vibration makes him swear again. His hands hook underneath her arms and he pulls her up to greedily slam his lips against hers. He rolls them over, pressing her down into his long-forgotten bed roll. He nudges her leg aside with his knee, positioning himself to enter her. Without breaking the kiss, she lifts up, and pushes him on her back. Her hands clench his shoulders, and her legs lock around his hips.

"Not going to let you top me," she breathes. He smirks against her mouth, and rolls them back over. She nips at his lips, and knocks him over on his side. They struggle for dominance over one another amidst fevered kisses and grasping hands. He pushes her on her stomach and lands a stinging slap to her ass. She moans into the bedding, her hips lifting ever so slightly. He smirks at her whimpering, and delivers another slap. He grasps the soft, tender and abused flesh, kneading it underneath his fingers.

"Tell me what you want," he exhales, leaning forward to press feather-light kisses up her back. She stutters, not quite able to find the words, and his hand slaps against her quickly reddening flesh again. "I believe the words you're looking for are 'Please fuck me, Vulpes.'"

"P-please," is all she manages to say before his hand crashes down on her flesh again. She cries out, and he spreads her legs. He lips lock onto her labia, and her cry cuts off with a strangled squeak. His hands firmly grasp her thighs, draping them over his shoulders. He licks her clit gently, and she jerks violently. His tongue enters her ever so slowly, and he moves it in and out in a teasing fashion.

"Vulpes," she whispers, her lips pressed against the rough bedding. A chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"Finish it," he says against her entrance. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"I-I want," she breaks off with a gasp as he continues his ministrations. "I want you," she almost pleads.

"You want me to what?" he says, slowly dragging his tongue across her clit with an agonizing slowness.

"I want you to fuck me!"

He flips her onto her back, claiming her lips again. He feels her grip his shoulders, and her legs lock around his hips as her pushes into her. He groans, his forehead pressed against hers. He sees a flash of a grin before he finds himself on his back with her sitting astride him. He opens his mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a moan as she purposely grinds her hips against him. She braces her hands against his chest, and feels his heartbeat pounding wildly beneath her palms. She presses a kiss to his cheek, and he growls as he captures her lips. His hands are splayed against her back, and she pulls herself up before slamming back down onto his member. She bites her lip and leans back to watch him.

Vulpes' face is a storm of emotion. He looks halfway ready to break, humiliated by being topped by a woman, and ecstatic at the pleasure he feels. His hands clench and unclench her hips, and she is sure she's going to be admiring his fingerprints for days. She slows the thrusting of her hips, and a Latin curse falls from his lips. His hips buck up wildly, and she lets out a soft,

"Oh," as he keeps her from falling. His hands drift to stroke her bouncing breasts, and her eyes drift closed. Fingers grasp her hair, and soon their positions are reversed, her back against his chest. He nuzzles her neck, and she moans, pressing back into him. She can barely hear the slapping of flesh over her own desperate moans, and the 'please fuck me's that fall from her lips. His hand stays fisted in her hair, and his thrusts grow savage and rough.

"Do you like this?" he growls against her ear.

"Not as much as you do," she chokes out, and hears a deep laugh.

"Liar," he breathes, pulling her head back and granting her with a forceful kiss that leaves her breathless.

She moans and squeals, hands grasping the bedding wildly. His lips break away from hers, and he pushes her forward with surprising gentleness, despite his words. His hand drifts from her hair down the length of her back, and she feels his breath hot against her neck, teeth brushing the tender flesh almost like a beast. Her legs hook around his knees, and she throws herself to the side to knock him off balance. He growls lowly, and she laughs as she moves to climb on top of him.

He sits up, hands locking around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. She hisses as he thrusts up into her, and feels his lips curl into a smile against her back. She closes her eyes, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. He presses tender kisses along the side of her jaw to the corner of her mouth, greedily smothering the cries she makes with his lips. His hands grip her hips like a vice, and he bites down on her shoulder as he increases his pace. She moans, her voice echoing throughout the tent and mingling with his. She clenches around him with a soft cry, and he orgasms into her with a muffled curse. She chuckles as he lies back, holding her against him. She rolls so she is facing him, and places a kiss on his open, panting mouth. She takes his still hard member, and guides it back inside of her.

His answering moan sounds almost pained, but he doesn't move to pull her off of him. She slowly jerks her hips, enjoying the feel of him and seeing his reactions. Sweat glistens on his skin, and his eyes are half-closed. His hands fumble over her body like he is blind. He mouths something, and she leans down to press her lips against his chest.

"What was that?" she whispers against his pulse, knowing full well what he wants to say.

"Have mercy," he croaks, his hands clenching and unclenching her hips.

"Have mercy?" she repeats, tongue sliding over his chest. She savors the way he tries to bite back a needy groan. "I don't think so," she says, lifting her hips to hover teasingly above the tip of his manhood before slamming them back down with a surprising force. He almost wails, his head thrashing violently from side to side. She keeps up her pace, shuddering with delight at the pleasure that courses through her. The names of random gods fall from Vulpes' lips, and she trembles above him. She comes, moaning softly into his neck, and he follows.

Afterwards, covered in sweat and bodily fluids, she lays on him. His arms tiredly wrap around her, and she her face nuzzles into the crook of his shoulder.

"You'll be the death of me, insatiable wench," he murmurs against her hair before falling asleep.

She leaves him the next morning, before he wakes up, and her only farewell is a chaste, weathered kiss.


End file.
